Stain Four
by Allureofproductivity
Summary: First, Isaac had a question, and Lydia did her research, God bless her. Now, he was bleeding out on a warehouse floor.
1. Chapter 1

He didn't hate Stiles. Really, honestly, he didn't. Isaac wasn't really sure about Stiles, to be perfectly honest. He knew that a) he was human, b) he had an embarrassing crush on Lydia Martin, who was beginning to return the affections, and c) Scott trusted Stiles with his life. And if his alpha trusted Stiles, he should trust Stiles. Isaac didn't trust Stiles. At all. In fact, his presence made every competitive and defensive alarm bell in his head ring at full volume. He had to be better than Stilinski. Absolutely had to. So he used snark and sarcasm and over exaggerated bravado around Stiles, especially when Scott was within earshot. But he didn't understand why he thought it was necessary all of a sudden, because while Stiles had always been mildly annoying, Isaac had always been pretty chill with him.  
He brought it up to Lydia one day, casually, as they sprawled behind some bookshelves in the library during their free period, sharing a physics textbook and getting next to nothing accomplished. She had been checking her lipstick, head in his lap, sharing earbuds and blasting Panic! At the Disco, to his pleasant surprise. She hummed quietly as he explained his feelings, and handed him her laptop.  
"Uh, gonna need more directions than that, Lyds."  
"Isaac, what do you know about pack dynamics?"  
He knew next to nothing, actually. She laughed quietly at his bemused face and patted his cheek gently.  
"Well, you have the alpha. You have betas, and then there's omegas. You know that much. What I'm assuming you don't know is that wolves have a very distinct, changeable pecking order within the ranks of beta and omega. I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that the wolf side of you, as a beta, sees Stiles as a threat to your rank as second in the pack hierarchy. You are second, Isaac, don't even argue. As long as you feel he threatens your rank, you will continue to be hostile to him. Does that make sense?"  
It did make sense, and he was prepared for her next question.  
"Isaac, do you feel powerful in Scott's pack?"  
He nodded, not liking where this was going.  
"You don't want to lose your power. You were powerless nearly your whole life, and now you're strong, beautiful, you are, I'm allowed to look, Jesus, powerful, respected. The exact opposite of your life with Derek, or with your...father."  
She doesn't voice the rest of her thought, doesn't say that hostility towards Stiles could also be a way of asserting this newfound power, because she doesn't have to. He realized that he was drunk on the euphoria that is control a few days ago.  
"I'm sorry." He barely whispers, a few tears drying on his cheeks. She clucks her tongue and sits up.  
"No. You're not sorry. You're going to own the fact that you are the top beta, Isaac. Stiles has accepted it, ok, trust me on this, he told me last night. Don't let anything stop you from having some control in the pack, Isaac. You're not going to apologize to Stiles, either, I know that look, but you are going to change your attitude towards him, ok? Save that male dominance thing for the next fight you're in."  
She turns him to face her, gently, so gently, and kisses his forehead.  
"Everyone's comfortable with your role except you. Own it, mister."  
And so when Stiles is fumbling for backup three days later, the omega twins staring him down, Isaac backs him up. It's surprisingly easy, and it feels good.  
It feels like pack.

**Well, ths was random. And not very good, to be honest. Be on the lookout for episode tags, hopefully soon. **

**stay shiny!**

**allure**


	2. Chapter 2

Companion piece to "Pecking Order."

It happened slowly, and then all at once. The Oni were faster than he and Scott, and one hell of a lot smarter, and they really, really wanted to destroy Stiles. The shadow demons were keeping him in an abandoned warehouse, of course, down near the shadier part of town. He and Scott had been half asleep in front of the television, Kira completely passed out on the floor, when they had gotten the call.

"I don't know where I am."

It was like they'd locked into DEFCON 5 mode in the time for a Tony Stark one liner to filter into his ears.

"We have an army."

And while Isaac shoved his nose into one of Stiles' hoodies that he'd left over a few weeks ago, he couldn't help himself.

"And we have a werewolf pack."

As it would turn out, they needed a lot more than two werewolves and one very terrified Kitsune with a cell phone and strict instructions to call the Argents and stay in the car. The warehouse was like a maze, and he felt like he was in an old horror movie, like the next second the walls would start dripping blood and his back would arch up and up and up until he was suspended in the dusty air, screaming gibberish. Stiles' scent was stronger here, and continued down the hallway and through the next until they came to a very heavy, very locked door.

Scott grinned at him weakly and elongated his claws, inserting the very tip of his pinky into the lock before following up with the other hand in a different position and rotated slowly, there was a click, a slight hiss of air, and then he was flying across the room that they had just broken into, slamming into the wall hard enough to feel ribs crack and splinter down the length of his back. Isaac felt his vision fuzz out, barbed wire wrapping around his chest as he gasped for air that wouldn't come. He blacked out unintentionally, but long enough to heal, blue eyes sealing slowly as a little blood leaked from the left corner of his mouth.

Stain one.

He came to when Scott yelled in pain, on his feet before he thought about it. He had to protect the alpha. He had to protect his pack. Scott was on the floor, blood pouring from his mouth and nose, eyes fluttering. From the hole in the sheet metal, Isaac guessed he had become very good friends with the wall a few minutes ago. He jumped in front of Stiles and growled at the Oni, claws out. The demon dragged long talons across his cheek, blood welling up and splattering to the floor as Isaac tore at shadows.

Stain two.

He swore violently and aimed a kick at the thing, blood still ghosting down his cheek as he was flipped like a pancake and landed flat on his right arm. He heard the bone split, heard a sizzling hiss as bone split flesh, felt heat course down his arm and drip from his useless fingers. The pain kicked in a few seconds after his blood formed a puddle. He howled and curled in on himself, mind blanking out on everything but The Avengers, and only one line.

"And shwarma after?"

Stain three.

Stiles' panicked voice yelling his name and the squeak of tires brought him up, arm cradled against his tshirt. Allison was here, and he would have backup. Scott was still out for the count, head lolling against the remains of what looked to be a table. Isaac was the only one left.

"You're second in command, Isaac..."

He was second in command, and he had to protect Stiles because Stiles was pack. So he shoved the smaller boy to the floor roughly and leapt in front of three swords. Three blades, in a triangular formation, all pointed at his diaphragm.

Stain four.

The minute the Oni realized they had the wrong kid suspended in the air on a triangle of death, they disappeared into smoky shadows and drifted away like sand. Isaac collapsed to the ground, blood rushing through his ears and coming up in bubbles as he choked and gasped for air. He felt sick and dizzy, the hilts of shadowy blades protruding from between his ribs and below his kidneys. They needed to come out, so he pulled them from his heaving chest one by one, even as a frantic Stiles shouted at him not to.

"Isaac, you'll just lose more blood!"

It didn't matter, anyways, not really, because Isaac Lahey was convinced he was dying. The door slammed open right as blood wet steel slammed into blood wet ground, the last of the torturous rods out of him and he was free, free, free, until the pain hit again, and he was suffocating, and he screamed for Allison, who he knew was in the room.

"Oh god, oh god, ISAAC, Isaac, no, no, stay awake, you hear me?"

She lifted his head into her lap gently, his so, so heavy head. Blood soaked through his tshirt, his jeans, his lips, and he coughed again, practically spewing sticky crimson syrup. He was swimming through an ocean of cut glass and he writhed and writhed and screamed and screamed and screamed in terror, because he was a dying man at age 17 and that was too young to go.

When everything faded to hazy blues and greys and his senses dimmed, he realized he was in a car, the backseat of what seemed to be a nice car, and his head was resting in blood. The pain was an ache hovering like a sparrow in the verge of consciousness, and they were moving too fast, too fast, and Scott was gripping both of his forearms, hand above the cliff of bone and shredded tissue that signified his lack of healing. Black was surging through his brother's vein, and he realized they were brothers maybe too late. He moaned, trying to speak, but the words came up as foul black muck, coughed from his lungs onto Allison's white skirt like smoke from a factory chimney, and he cried.

The car pulled to a whiplash stop and he was being carried, Scott still next to his head, eyes glowing red. Isaac squirmed and cried out when the distinctly hospital scent pierced through the false calm brought on by blood loss, terror regaining a foothold. He was in a chair, slumping sideways and choking in his own blood, and then icy agony shot through every nerve ending and he was sprawled on the cold tile floor, everything was so cold, he was so cold.

He knew the person cradling him gently, so gently, dark spiral curls and scrubs filling his vision, a low voice and fingers through his hair, and then someone yelling, the same someone with the soft hands.

"M'ssa..."

So much blood, over her hands, over his, Scott's, Allison's, oh god he was choking and so dizzy. He wanted sleep, wanted warmth, and he let his numb fingers stutter over his chest jerkily, fingers catching on loose skin and pulling like fish hooks, and he yelped and tried to pull away from himself, until something caught his hands and held them, rubbing over his knuckles. People were whispering, accusatory snippets filling his head, and he keened and jerked, metal filling his mouth and coating his swollen tongue.

"... in a gang, probably..."

"Stoned..."

"Poor thing..."

"...kid won't make it through the night..."

The lights were rushing, glove chalky hands holding his, needle pinch, and he couldn't stop shaking. The world was dark and shadowy, faces appearing, masks and firefly bright eyes peering at him from doorways and corners, a janitor's cart, behind desks, and he let them take him this time. Before he lost traction and sunk into a nightmare abyss, he latched onto one more thought like a star.

"I am the monster..."

He couldn't finish the phrase before he was trapped in the freezer, blades sunk through his temples, and chains around his legs.

**I just cannot even stop. This is inspired in part by the promo for 3x18 and also by my story "Pecking Order." Check it out, along with "Whale Watching with Werewolves."**

**Stay Shiny!**

**Allure**


	3. Chapter 3

Melissa McCall was so ready to go home for the night, to spend some time with her boys, eat cold pizza, and pass out in front of the latest "Vampire Diaries." As she gathered her bat, stuffing her phone into her pocket, a familiar cry of fear circled towards her from the ER waiting room.

"Isaac."

And she sprinted towards the sound, heart thumping, adrenaline rushing, lungs squeezing. It had to be bad if they had brought him here, instead of getting him comfy on the couch and waiting out the pain or paying Deaton a midnight visit. It was very bad, and she froze after rounding the corner, watching in horror as one of her babies collapsed out of a chair and sprawled heavily across the white tiles of the emergency waiting area. There was blood pouring like a river from his chest, his lower abdomen, being sprayed from his mouth as he was seized by a coughing spasm, and he was a light greyish color, blue veins standing out in his otherwise colorless cheeks. She ran to him, watching him apprehensively for signs of agressive behavior, and gathered him into her arms softly. He seemed to recognize her, mumbling a slurred bastardization of Melissa and collapsing bonelessly into her lap. She pressed hard on the worst looking puncture, which, mother of Christ, went straight through one lung. She could feel his weak, wet, gasping attempts at oxygenation as his chest heaved up and down, blood spurting with every pump of his strained heart, and wiped at his lips gently, clearing some of the viscous fluid. They were completely blue, his skin clammy under her touch and sweat beading through his blood soaked curls and running down his face.

"I need an oxygen mask over here!"

Her son handed her one, and she yanked it over Isaac's nose and mouth, his breathing too shallow. He didn't fight her, didn't protest, and she gulped down the tears filling her throat.

"Someone get me Doctor Smythe!"

It was another five minutes before anyone else came to take care of Isaac, so she just held him to her, monitoring his respiration and pulse and trying so hard to keep him calm. People were openly gawking, some pitying, some analyzing, others outright rude. One woman was loudly explaining to anyone who would listen that Isaac must be in a gang, another man declaring he wouldn't survive the night, and still others pondering if drugs were involved. Isaac's blue eyes cracked open and peered up at her, the mask attached to his mouth and nose splattered with blood.

"Sweetheart, you're going to be ok. Isaac, you're going to be alright. You just need to hold on."  
*********************************

His surgery was the hardest thing she had ever done, including divorcing Rafe and watching her best friend die and leave behind a terrified son and vacant husband.

There were four punctures to his right lung and she watched helplessly as they inserted a temporary draining tube, his blood soaking her gloves as she sutured one wall closed. She let a single tear run down her cheek as Dr. Smythe handed her one of Isaac's kidneys, part of his liver, his spleen, all too damaged to be saved. Werewolf healing didn't extend to regrowing organs.

He crashed three times, twice while they were repairing his lung and once as they removed an organ. The monitors screamed at her louder than her own panicky thoughts.

They wired his rib cage back together and set the compound fracture. 300 stitches later, non invasive ventilation was placed over his mouth, transfusions were ordered, and they pumped him full of morphine and cleaned the blood off of him. He surfaced as she sponged congealed blood from his neck, eyes slits, breathing harsh and heavy.

"Hi, honey."

He mumbled something beneath the mask, and grabbed at her hand weakly, his numb frozen fingers catching the edge of her sleeve before he phased out again.

She almost cried. She could read lips.

Isaac had said, "hi mom."

She made it to the waiting room after almost seven hours, sighin in relief. She'd stayed with Isaac while he was in the recovery room, holding his bluish hand and stroking his curls off his feverish forehead. His oxygen was in the sixties currently, even with the oronasial mask doing most of the work for him, and his temperature had risen to about 104. That definitely qualified as a fever, even for a werewolf. She had made sure that the nurses filling out his chart had made a note that his normal resting temp. was 101. He was in bad shape either way, and she had just finished transporting him to the ICU. it wasn't a comforting thought.

She had to laugh, however, at the scene playing out before her in the OR wait room. Scott was sprawled out on the floor, how typical, at Allison's feet. Chris Argent was asleep with his head tilted back, one hand resting near his belt. Allison was the only one still awake, eyes swollen slightly, hands clenched into fists, earphones in. She leapt from her chair the minute she saw Melissa enter in her bloody scrubs, running over to her even as the receptionist told her to slow down.

"How is he?"

Allison looked distraught, blood still staining her clothing and crusted around her fingernails. Melissa took her out into the hallway and forced her to sit down.

"Allison, he's not doing well." She ignored the choked noise the girl made beside her and kept going. "He's on ventilation, his oxygen is in the sixties, he's running a fever, and he isn't healing himself at all. He lost more blood than I even thought was possible. The doctors are giving him a 50/50 chance of making it to tomorrow."

She held Allison to her chest as she sobbed, Melissa's own tears falling into Allison's hair. They stayed like that for well over an hour, eventually falling asleep on the floor.

**This almost hurt me to write. Review please!**

**Stay Shiny!**

**Allure**


	4. Chapter 4

Isaac woke up in nauseating, blinding, suffocating panic. Pain shot through his jelly body like acid through a needle and he yanked on the tubes surrounding him in a frenzy, screaming beeps and whirrs filling his head and heightening his fear. He had to get out of here. Escape, escape, escape, escape. Something was over his mouth and he crushed it in a clawed hand, sharp, blood sticky plastic falling like cursed snowflakes from his stiff fingers, and started to run. He was freezing, sweat slicked, and dizzy as a cat on a carousel. His knees buckled and he went sprawling before he could even think "oh holy hell."

Wildfire lit through his chest and abdomen in searing tongues and he let out a high scream, back arching from the floor and claws gouging the stained linoleum. He could feel eyes on him, hear whisper whisper whispers but was too concerned with his head exploding with the force if an atomic weapon, greenish brown ooze splattering the floor as he choked on air to worry about what people were seeing him turn into.

"ISAAC."

Scott. Alpha. Brother. He calmed a fraction, screams turning to guttural howls and hands pressing against rough bandages stretched across his torso. He had no idea where he was or what had happened to get him there, but he knew one thing.

He was gonna get the freezer for sure.

This started a fresh round of yells, the walls pressing against him and his father dancing a jig across his fractured consciousness, maniacal eyes glowing like fireflies. Fireflies, fireflies, fireflies.

He shot into a sitting position in the middle of the ICU waiting area with a cry, a desperate plea to stop, and them sank back against something warm and soft and apple scented, reddish hair falling in his face that wasn't his hair and pinkish nude fingernails flitting across his vision field.

"Is, shush, Ise... You're ok, Stiles is ok, Allison's coming. He can't hurt you anymore, ok, sweetie? No one's gonna hurt you anymore."

Lydia. Pack. Lydia. He whimpered and pressed his sweaty cheek against her exposed collarbone and she dropped soft kisses on the top of his head, rubbing some steady warmth through his fingers slowly.

"No more narcotics for you, huh, Ise? That'll get rid of the hallucinations. That's all they were... Ok? Just breathe through it, I know it's hard to breathe right now, but we'll make it easier, sweetie, we will."

She was still holding his shaking hand. He was shaking fit to break, dangling from someone's, Scott's, arms like a rag doll, head lolling across fabric that smelled like alpha and pack and home and family. This place, hospital, didn't smell like home or pack or family. It smelled of death and fear and freezer nights, blood, sweat, urine, and panic.

He whimpered again, reaching drunkenly for Lydia. He wanted so badly to go home.

"I zu... I 'anna go 'ome... Dun fell 'o hot. 'Ydiass..."

He didn't like this one bit and started to squirm, stomach roiling and head pounding and sick, white hot acid centering on his chest.

"Eh..eeeeeeemmmmmmm...ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh... Sc-Scott... "

Scott's scent changed, anxiety growing stronger and relief fading away, and he gagged in response, feeling Lydia flinch.

"Isaac, what is it? What do you need?"

"C-can't...can't breathe. Feel sick..."

"Isaac, what kind of sick?."

A door creaked open and his head was positioned over a toilet in what Stiles would call " preventative measures" and he almost laughed but the pressure in his chest was growing. He coughed up brown mucus and spit, head spinning and nausea increasing. He felt like shit, never felt this horrendous. He coughed too hard and his stomach leapt into his throat, but he swallowed thickly.

"Not...not that kind. Of sick."

He was betrayed by his own body literally seconds after that, dry heaves shaking him. There was nothing in him to come up and oh Christ it hurt it hurt so much and he was sobbing in between heaves and Scott left halfway through to find Melissa and he's never wanted someone to hold him more than right now.

Lydia started stroking his hair when he finished, cradling him, and he buried his face in her soft green sweater, wheezing wetly. He passed out before Melissa got there with Scott.

Lydia was not a big fan of the waiting game. First they sat and waited for two days, his eyes closed, fever rising, lungs filling with fluid, until the doctor called pneumonia. He woke up three hours after Allison left the hospital for the first time since he'd been admitted. Now, after the dramatic reawakening that nearly gave her a stroke at the tender age of 16, he had passed out again, face ashen, dehydrated, over stressed, and over tired.

She had come very close to panicking when he had collapsed in the entry to the ICU wait room, screaming in pain and squirming on the floor. She'd rushed to his side, stroking his cheek as he yelled nonsense about his father and freezers and nonono please dad please not today, until whatever he was seeing changed into Oni and he shot up screaming for Stiles to run.

She caught him easily, his heart racing beneath her hand and his nose burying into her neck, then slumping lower. HIs skin was overly hot and gleaming with sweat, his cheek buried against her collarbone. He was having trouble breathing, and she held his hand as Scott scooped him up like he weighed nothing.

Isaac had started to panic a little soon after they entered the hallway, trying to speak and finally moaning for Scott and gagging. She winced, knowing he wouldn't win that battle, and began to guide them towards a bathroom, bumping the door open and gesturing to Scott to get his head over the toilet. Isaac coughed a few times, denying what she knew would happen eventually.  
Once the heaves started, she moved in, resting a hand lightly on Isaac's neck and telling Scott to find Melissa. Her boy passed out boneless on a bathroom floor, breath harsh and damp, his curly head buried in her sweatshirt. Her first order of business had been to get him off the morphine.

"I don't care. He was hallucinating his abusive father and shadow demons. Find him something else, dammit, or I will find a way to sue you." She didn't really care that she legally could not. The threat worked to her advantage.

The drug they had been pumping into him for the past five hours was non narcotic, thank all that was good and holy in the shit show that was her reality, and Isaac was starting to get restless. One blue eye slotted open, and then the other, and she pressed her hand lightly against the oronasial mask.

"That's gotta stay on. Last time it came off, your oxygen levels dropped from the high seventies to the low sixties in 20 minutes."

She pressed the call button, not wanting to wake a sleeping Melissa, who was taking her shift break on the couch in the corner of the room.

"Lydia?"

His voice was pubescently cracked and scratchy and muffled by the mask, and her heart contracted.

"Yeah, Ise?"

"Th-thanks for st-tayin' wif me..."

"Isaac...it's not a problem. "

His focus shifted to Melissa, who was stirring. She sat up and walked over, taking the other chair. Lydia relinquished Isaac's good hand to the woman who had become her best friend's mother.

"Momma..."

God, he sounded five years old and terrified, and she couldn't even.

Melissa wiped a tear from her cheek.  
"Hi, sweetheart. How're you feeling?"

"Wanna go home..."

He fell asleep again after croaking out that simple exchange of dialogue, exhausted and feverish and still low on blood volume. Melissa buried her head in her hands and sobbed quietly and Lydia rubbed her back slowly, trying to calm her.

"Ugh, I have to go back on shift..."

"I'll stay here with him."

Melissa smiled at her sadly, one that didn't reach her eyes.

"Thank you, Lydia."

It was the least she could do for the smartass werewolf who had befriended her quickly and easily over the summer, when he was reeling from Erica and Boyd's disappearance and she was all alone. He had spent 4 months keeping her sane and grounded and comforting her on occasion. It was time she repaid the favor.'

She fell asleep with her head on the corner of the mattress, one hand resting in his curls, the other pressed to his cheek.

***chants* BROTP BROTP BROTP**

**Please please review! I really want some feedback on this story, because it's my most beloved headcanon of the season...**

**Stay Shiny!**

**Allure**


	5. Chapter 5

Isaac spent the next week sleeping. It seemed to Allison that he only woke up to attempt puking his guts out, fever so high it induced extreme nausea, even in his semi comatose state. On Monday, they stuck him in a tub full of ice and he thrashed and screamed but his fever dropped two degrees. On Tuesday, he pulled three stitches loose coughing and bled all over her hands, only waking up fully long enough to whisper "ah shit." On Wednesday, they put a drainage tube in the lung that hadn't been ripped to shreds, because the pneumonia had spread, aggressively. On Thursday she had mandatory study hall after school, because she hadn't turned in a single homework assignment all week, and spent the entire session texting Lydia, who was at the hospital with Isaac. Isaac spent an hour with his head down the toilet, fever causing nasty hallucinations, and they had to start a second IV line to get enough fluids into him. When she finally got to him, he was a shaking mess, and Lydia had mascara tracks across her cheeks. The hand that was wiping Isaac's forehead with a cold washcloth was white knuckled. Isaac was semi coherent, eyes glazed over with fatigue and delirium.

"Isaac?"

He moved his head towards the sound of her voice and the squeak of the chair she sat in and swallowed hard.

"Allis..."

It was hardly even a whisper, and it seemed to get stuck halfway up his throat.

"Lydia, what did he see? Goddam."

Lydia didn't even look up, just kept wiping sweat off of Isaac's pale face.

"Boyd's death. The freezer his father locked him in. _Derek Hale throwing a fucking glass at his head."_

Allison started, jolting Isaac from an uneasy doze. He whimpered and pushed into Lydia's palm, then fell back under.

"Derek threw a glass at him? When? Why didn't he tell anyone?"

"When he kicked him out of his fucking loft in the middle of a goddam thunderstorm with an entire alpha pack waiting to kill someone! That man is not coming anywhere near Isaac, ever again, or I will inject cyanide into his testicles and then cut them off with a pair of rusty safety scissors."

Allison looked up to see Melissa McCall standing in the doorway, trying not to laugh.

"Uh, Lydia, whose testicles will you be desecrating?"

"Derek Fucking Asshole Hale." At Melissa's questioning, but not entirely shocked, look, Lydia went on to elaborate as to why. By the end of her tirade, Melissa looked ripe for murder.

"I'm taking him off the visitor list."

On Friday, all hell broke loose in the parking lot. Lydia and Allison and Melissa all watched in horror from the window as three people got electrocuted before Kira, who was a surprisingly awesome Billy Badass, grabbed a sparking wire out of the air and suffocated it. Scott came sprinting into ICU five minutes later, shaking Isaac awake gently and grabbing his mom by the forearms.

"We have to get Isaac out of here."

Lydia looked up from where she was helping Isaac sit up. He groaned weakly, pawing at her shirt until she climbed over the railing and sat next to him, stroking through his hair. He was exhausted from the effort of moving a few inches, wheezing heavily, face scrunched in pain. Lydia scoffed at Scott wearily, gently adjusting the oxygen mask still present on Isaac's face.

"You really think that's actually fathomable right now? Have you seen him lately?"

"We have to. Stiles is- Stiles isn't actually Stiles right now. That cut wire, that was him. He knows where Isaac is and he wants him. Badly."

"And you know this how, exactly?" Allison asked, gathering up her things just in case Scott could prove that the hospital was no longer safe.

He hit a few buttons on his phone and a crackly recording poured forth from the tinny speakers. Lydia made a strangled noise and Isaac jumped slightly, sagging. The recording was Stiles, but not, voice too sensually evil but just right for him at the very same time.

_"Come out come out, little wolf pup. I never got to thank you properly for gallantly saving my pretty little meatsuit here. Would you like power, hmm, Isaac, or some more strength? I know you aren't healing, little wolf. I can heal you, make you stronger, faster, so much better. I can take away the nightmares, Isaac. Just let me in... Let me in. Give this poor vessel a break, yeah?" _

Isaac's eyes were molten as he shot from the bed, wavering on his feet before sliding towards the wall. Scott caught him as his knees gave way.

"Gotta... Go... dun wanna die..."

"Shush. You aren't gonna die."

"Th-the Nogitsune... I can't..."

"Wait."

The whole room whirled to face Allison in one scary swift motion.

"Scott, he can't go back to your house. Stiles-the Nogitsune, he'll be expecting that. We'll take him to mine. We have, ah, a liberal security system."

Isaac cracked a faint smile at that as Scott hauled him back to the bed.

"Okay," Scott replied, brow creased, jaw working in frustration, "Tell your dad. Mom, sign him out. Lydia and I will go to my house, get him some clothes. If you see or hear from Stiles at all..."

They all nodded. Once everyone had gone to do their thing, Allison slipped into the bed next to Isaac. He chuffed and burrowed into her side, and she smiled slightly, rubbing at his spine gently. His fever was still up, and she texted her dad to find the oxygen tank they kept with the first aid supplies for dire emergencies. She wasn't a big fan of Scott's plan, but she understood where he was coming from. They couldn't skip school for god knows how many weeks while they waited for this all to blow over. If Stiles did come after Isaac at the hospital while they were occupied with being normal teenagers, Isaac was completely useless in a fight right now and it would be far too easy to force him to say yes to the Nogitsune. At least if he was laid up at her house and Demonic Stiles decided to reenact "The Possession", he was surrounded by weapons and her father was in the next room.

Lydia and Scott were back in under twenty minutes, tossing a pair of track pants and a sweater at her. Lydia woke Isaac again, gently kissing his forehead and looping an arm under his shoulders. Scott kept watch at the door and Allison slipped Isaac's gown off. He shivered, wearing only boxers, and Lydia and Allison alike gave a little whimper at the sight of his chest, all bandages and plastic tubing beneath skin, before helping him into his pants and shirt. Holding his arms up long enough to get the fabric over them was a struggle, and he laid back afterwards, panting as Allison laced his boots up.

"Hey, hey, breathe normally. You're gonna pass out on me."

He huffed, squirming in slight pain. She swatted his leg gently and let out a breath when he laughed wheezily.

Scott led the way to the car when he got the text from his mom, one arm under Isaac's shoulders. A nurse had come to unhook Isaac from the monitors and remove the IV, shooting them all dirty looks when Isaac had refused a wheelchair weakly, shoving himself to standing and trying not to sway. Scott had ducked under his arm the minute she'd left the room, and Allison knew he was taking 60% of Isaac's weight at the very least.

Yeah, this was a shitty plan.

Allison opened the passenger door for Scott, who lowered Isaac into the seat and then slid into the middle of the back. She leaned over to strap Isaac in, his head lolling across the upholstery. He caught her sleeve between two clumsy fingers and she looked him dead in the eye.

"Th-thanks."

She kissed his cheek gently.

"Any time."

The ride was uneventful, 20 minutes of normal that were all too welcome, but towards the end, Isaac got restless, whining a little in his throat, sitting up for so long taking a toll. Melissa hit the gas a little harder after that. Turns out it was a good plan, because Scott opened Isaac's door, lifted him out, and then Isaac was throwing up in the parking lot, hands pressed to his stomach. Lydia winced in sympathy.

"God, poor kid."

He finished quickly, still greenish around the jawline, sweaty and exhausted. Scott huffed at him when he tried to walk, so shaky he looked like a baby giraffe, and finally just took most of his weight again, bracing his beta with a hand to the least damaged part of his chest.

Allison was convinced Isaac was going to wolf out in the elevator. He balked when he saw it, eyelids fluttering, tears leaking from his fine lashes.

"No...No...n-noo…"

Melissa got in his face then, taking his chin in her hands gently but firmly.

"Isaac, sweetheart, Scott can't carry you up the stairs. You have to get on the elevator, honey. Now come on. We're all here with you."

He cowered the entire time, not letting anyone near him, not even Scott. He was using the wall to stay on his feet, eyes clenched tightly, the fist not in a cast tapping the chrome paneling. She really wished that she didn't live on the eleventh floor of the building.

Her dad answered the door on the first knock, helping Scott with a limp Isaac, scooping the exhausted kid into his arms like he used to do for Allison when she was a kid. Isaac was so tired he didn't make a sound or fight Chris' hold on him.

Allison let out the breath she'd been holding since Scott had come charging in to Isaac's room in ICU. Isaac was finally safe.

**I'd say this is fairly canon divergent by this point.**

**Stay Shiny,**

**Allure**


	6. Chapter 6

**Jesus Christ, okay, um, definitely trigger warnings for torture, graphic violence, and to be safe, mentions of child abuse and emotional trauma. This is pretty gore-happy, more so than the surgery scene in chapter 3. On a lighter note, the Nogitsune is a sassy mofo. **

Isaac was exhausted. His head was spinning and he was nauseated, lungs aching with every breath. Someone was dragging him across a cool tile floor and he whined tiredly, wanting the someone to stop moving him. His chest ached and his arm kept hitting things, the vibrations of contact jolting fire through the wired up bones. Isaac was almost positive he had been been drugged, roofied or something. He needed to cough or puke or cry, and he felt really, really dizzy.

"What… wasgoinonnn… s'p…"

"Oh, Isaac, you should have known better than this. Did you and your idiot pack really think that taking you to Allison Argent's house would be a suitable deterrent from me getting what I want? Chris Argent doesn't scare me."

Oh. Oh shit. Stiles had him. Stiles had drugged him, kidnapped him, was probably going to torture him. Isaac's breathing sped up and his vision spun away from him. He was being hoisted in the air by his wrists, the pressure on his damaged chest increasing exponentially, and he screamed, until something white hot pressed to his collarbone. His scream turned to a howl of desperation as the fire shifted to the hollow of his throat and then faded, leaving him sick and dizzy. He managed to pry his eyes open, panting heavily. He had most of his weight balanced on the toes of his boots, the smell of burnt flesh ratcheting up his nausea. He cried out when Stiles twisted his finger into his side, grinning devilishly as he pulled on the end of the drainage tube protruding from the hole.

"St'p… "Tiles…. Stooopppp…"

"I'm not Stiles anymore, buddy boy. I don't have any humanity left, so I won't feel any guilt when I leave your mangled corpse in the school parking lot on top of your pretty little girlfriend's car."

The thing inside his friend wiped Isaac's blood on the hem of his shirt and picked up a syringe. Isaac flinched at the scent, jerking stitches open in a desperate attempt to escape the needle. Blood seeped through bandages and his shirt quickly, a veritable stream of crimson fluid, and Stiles (no no no Stiles it's not Stiles Isaac no) advanced towards him, sinking the tip into the veins bulging from Isaac's neck. The wolfsbane stung through his veins in acidic agony, and he howled again, this time a call to his alpha. Stiles ( no matter how hard he tries he can't disassociate no no) slapped him hard across the cheek.

"Shut up."

And then there was a rag in his mouth and he couldn't breathe hardly at all, lungs still full of fluid and nose clogged from pneumonia. He heard a saw start, felt it vibrate against the cast on his arm, and then his destroyed appendage was dangling limply at his side, unsupported and weak and so painful. Stiles got right up in his face now, yanking his head from his chest by a fistful of sweat slick hair.

"Let… Me… In…"

"Go..go t-to h-hell."

His entire body was burning. Stiles grimaced, picking up a small revolver and pointing it at the top of Isaac's thigh. There was a sharp pain and then an all out searing agony, and he screamed again, ashamed of his weakness. Stiles just chuckled at him, shaking his head like Isaac was a disobedient toddler.

"Oh, Isaac. Which tendons do you want severed first, hmm? Perhaps the Achilles. Yes, yes I quite like that plan."

And then something cold bit into the top of his ankle and there was a sickening pop and something was oozing down his leg, and he was consumed by pain. He thrashed and screamed and vomited black sludge down himself, Stiles ripping the gag out so he didn't choke on his own bile, the wolfsbane coursing through him completely shutting down his extra senses. Stiles had a knife now and was carving patterns in his back, slicing through partially healed incisions and stitches and dinging the surface of his ribcage. He could smell his own pain through the haze of copper and fear. Stiles was muttering to himself as he resculpted Isaac's back, singing off key, and Isaac laughed in hysteria as he made out the words.

"Here comes the sun, da da da, here comes the sun, and I say, it's alright."  
He would give anything to see the sun right now. The torture just kept going. Stiles had discovered the joys of a cattle prod and was jamming it into his stomach over and over again, cackling maniacally when Isaac's bladder released after the seventh shock in as many minutes. Isaac was sobbing harshly now, barely able to breathe. His body was shredded and he was terrified.

"Stiles is awake inside here, angel face. He's screaming louder than you, kiddo. Keeps telling me to leave you alone, that you're all Scott has left now that he's practically dead. You know what, Isaac, I might just spare you yet. I quite like you. You're not easily manipulated. I guess it makes sense, that torture is relatively ineffective at forcing you into anything. After all, your own father spent 5 years of your life torturing you as punishment. He had you believing that Camden's death was your fault, didn't he? I bet you still believe it. Camden isn't dead, you know. He's alive, he's here, in Beacon Hills. That brave little deputy, Parrish, I believe his name is, that's your brother. He thinks you're dead, Isaac. And soon, he'll be the one finding your body, after Allison sees you first. Do you think that will break her, Isaac? I know it will."

"Just… p-please st-stop."

"No can do, sweetcheeks. Not until you say yes. Come on, Isaac. Just say yes…. LET ME IN. LET ME IN."

He was being dragged across the floor again, towards something large and white and all too familiar, and then he was in the freezer again, and he screamed until he finally, blessedly, passed out.

He woke to bright light and a woman screaming and he growled, snarling at the blurry figure hovering over him. He was frozen, and everything hurt so badly. He scented something familiar, something comforting, and then solid arms were dragging him from the freezer and laying him on the floor, his head on a blue skirt.

"Call an ambulance."  
No, no he didn't want to go back to the hospital. He moaned and thrashed and dug his claws into soft skin where he thought there was concrete, eliciting a cry of pain from someone above him.

"ISAAC."

Scott was over him, dragging him away from Allison, his eyes red. Isaac had blood staining his claws and Allison had one hand clamped to her thigh, looking worried.

"Nooooooo I did-didn't say yesss… n-no… no more. STILES PLEASE."

"Isaac, Isaac, he's gone now, you're gonna be okay. You need to answer some questions, okay, I know you're hurting but we need some answers so we can help you."

He thinks he nodded, and then he was hauled up and propped against the wall.

"Scott…"

"Allison, get away from that box."

Allison was near him, wiping the blood and bile from his chest with a wet paper towel.

"I-I threw up…"

"Shhhh, it's alright. Melissa! We're over here."

Allison was gone and Melissa was there, taking his hand in hers.

"Isaac, were you poisoned? We need to know."

"Y-Yes… th-there was a… n-nee'le… dunno where it wen…"

"Scott."

"We're looking."

"Okay, Isaac, when did you throw up?"

"Dunno… why?"

"He's dehydrated, his pupils won't focus and he's slurring badly. When did you notice he was gone?"

"We didn't, we heard him howl today during fourth period, that was 8 hours ago. The Nogitsune set false trails all over town. This is the ninth place we've looked."

"Alright. That means he could've been missing for up to fourteen hours. Scott, blood loss and werewolves, how does that work exactly?"

"I don't really know, Mom. We found the syringe, there isn't anything left in it, but…"

"Take it. Help me with him, John."

"Wai' 'ere we goin?"

"Deaton. Isaac, I have to report this to the station once we have you fixed up. I won't let them question you, okay? They'll leave you alone."

" 'Kay… I 'on fell good…"

"I know, honey. We'll get you taken care of."

" 'Kay…"

He let himself fall from consciousness, the smell of gunpowder and Melissa's hand soap lulling him to oblivion.

**Well, that was a nightmare.  
Stay Shiny!  
Allure**


	7. Chapter 7

The howl came out of literally nowhere, surrounding her and swallowing her up. It was Isaac. Her sweet, poor Isaac, who, last time she checked, was passed out in Allison's guest bedroom, barely able to stay awake long enough to ask for some water. He was hurting, so badly she could feel it vibrating beneath her skin, a dull ache that turned into a searing fire and faded to a numbing swell of fear and copper flooding her tongue and nose. She yelped and fell from her chair, letting tears stream down her cheeks as she yelled his name. Someone was touching her arm now and she whimpered, nuzzling closer when she realized it was Scott.

"Lydia, it's okay. Open your eyes, Lyds, come on."

She did. She was panting sickly on the floor of the hallway, lying against Scott's chest. Her mother was crouched in front of them, looking worried and a little disturbed.

"I-Isaac... Scott, Stiles has Isaac... He can't get away, he's too weak. We have to save him..."

"We will, come on."

He was carrying her towards the door, her mother's shouts ringing in her ears. Allison was there now too, shooting a worried look her way, fingers on her pulse point. She was in the backseat of a car now, and she let herself drift away.

She woke to Scott's voice. It was dark outside and they were parked in front of Isaac's old house and she could feel him there, all fear and sick and sweat and metal.

"Jesus Christ..."

She nodded mutely and Scott knocked on the front door right as a scream echoed from the basement and everyone hit panic mode. Scott kicked the door in, Allison hot on his heels, and she hung back with Melissa. The scene in the basement made her gag and she let a cry fall from her lips as the smell of blood and puke and urine and sick sweet poison filled her nose. Isaac was in a fucking freezer. A freezer and there was a woman screaming and staring. Scott was dragging his limp body from the metal box. He was a mess, ripped to shreds. She edged closer to get a better look. His collarbone was decorated with burns in the shape of a smiley face, likely from a cigarette, and electrical burns spread in a wide web beneath an opaque coating of something she didn't want to think about. The drainage tube in his left lung was ripped out of place and stitches were torn open, blood drying all over him. There was a massive bruise on his neck, oozing grayish liquid from a tiny hole in a vein. His pants were stained with urine and He was soaked in vomit, black shit staining his chin and coating his chest. His leg was still oozing red from a point somewhere in the vicinity of his Achilles' tendon and the cast had been cut from his arm, wires visible in bulges under the skin. His back... She covered her mouth with her hand. Stiles had carved words into Isaac's back. The huge gashes spelled out something and she took some time to make it out, but she succeeded.

_All we are is dust in the wind._

The Sheriff was carrying Isaac out now, promising the traumatized soccer mom that had found Isaac in the freezer that he'd send officers to the house soon, and she sprinted after them, catching up as Isaac went limp in Sheriff Stilinski's grip. They got him in the back of the cruiser, Scott and Allison behind them in the Mazda.

Isaac was awake as soon as the motor started, but disoriented and confused. He moaned, gripping her shirt in his good hand tight enough that she heard threads pop.

"Mooomm..."

"Lydia, get him to drink this."

She nodded mutely and took the water bottle from Melissa. Isaac was limp again, but still conscious, and she lifted his head slowly, watching him closely. He whined and squeezed his eyes shut.

"I'm sorry, baby, I didn't mean to get you dizzy. Think you can drink some water?"

He didn't nod, just huffed in agreement, and she tipped to bottle to his lips, watching his Adam's Apple bob weakly when he swallowed. He whimpered a little, and she combed through his grimy hair.

"M'ke i stop..."

"Make what stop, babe?"

"The r'llercoaster..."

He squirmed a little, crying out when he jarred one of his many injuries, and she sniffled, petting his hair. It calmed him. It was one of the few things that could relax him when he was on edge.

_ "Isaac? Shit, Isaac, what's wrong?" He was whimpering in his sleep, twisting around on his side of the bed and clawing at her headboard, begging for Erica every other hiss of air. She sighed, rubbing his back, and yen tentatively combing through his sweaty curls. He relaxed almost immediately, whuffling like a contented dog and curling his body towards her. She kept stroking his scalp until she too fell asleep, draped over his broad chest. _

"L'yia... I'kay don' c'y."

"Shush. Don't tell me you're okay, don't lie to me like that. You're bleeding out on my lap, Ise, don't tell me you're okay."

He huffed, a wet laugh that dissolved into a rattle. A death rattle, her asshole of a brain supplied.

" 'int think you c'red so much..."

"Of course I care, you asswipe. Why wouldn't I care? I'm pretty sure I'm in love with you and I'm also_ pretty sure you're dying in my fucking arms right now Isaac so I will cry if I fucking want to." _

He gaped at her, his teeth stained crimson and pitch.

"L've me?"

"Yes, you absolute fuckwad. I love you and you're gonna die."

"I t'y not to..."

He'd try not to die. He had pretty good track record with that so far.

"Just, hold on, okay?"

He mock saluted with a slight whimper.

"L've you too..."

And she smiled and cried and held him to her like someone would take him from her right there in the back of the cruiser.

**Well fuck. This was supposed to be Allisaac endgame. Hehe whoops. **

**Stay Shiny, **

**Allure**


End file.
